Duality
by Funky Tanuki
Summary: It's his fault that I'm stuck here. Not caring for his mistake, he simply upped and left. How am I supposed to track him down when there's a monster out to kill me and runic intrigue every other step of the way? Where in the world is Albert Silverberg?


**AN: **I'm not used to writing in present tense, so there's prob a lot of mistakes. If you didn't notice, this takes place almost immediately after the end of Suikoden III. The biggest thing I did was have myself totally unaware of the Suikoden franchise. Self insert, my guilty pleasure.

_Duality_

_Chapter One  
Kuput, Kaput_

I am insane. It's so laughably obvious that I'm currently counting how long it's going to take this redhead to figure it out. Smile.

And all he does is stare.

_Smiiile._

Anyway, I am at least out of the loop 'cause one minute I was dozing on the sofa, and next minute, I'm grinning smugly at this tall, emotionless guy. He has this really long and painfully elaborate white coat on, and it seems far too nice out to be wearing it. Isn't he supposed to be sweating? Beginning to look around, as if it will somehow fill in the gaps, I see that we're in the middle of some stone ruins. For a brief moment, I thought of Stonehenge, but I just as quickly dismiss the thought. This pile of still shifting rubble was a building once, a large one. There's still dust circulating and debris falling so the destruction is recent.

Shit, I forgot to keep track of time. Oh well. Smile.

Finally, after however long it has been, he sighs. "Clearly not Yuber."

"Excusez-moi?"

He has the gall to ignore me and walk away. So I follow him. If I were back home and sane, I wouldn't go with strangers. I say "were" because it's a totally improbable situation at this point. Since I am clearly not in my right mind and not home, I merrily walk behind him. His damnable long legs kinda make it hard for me to keep beside him though. I don't feel like running.

"S'il vous plait parle vous anglais?" At this point I realize that he _had_ spoken in English before. I don't know how or why, but hey, I'm not complaining. This further convinces me that I am really heavily sedated in some padded cell. If I'm lucky though, this is a dream. I've never had one this bizarre, vivid, and in depth though. 'Sides, I'd probably be in his pants by now if it were my dream.

Well, it can still just by a sucky one.

…

"Je suis _Juliane_ et americaine. Et tu?" There really isn't a reason for me to be speaking French—I'm not even fluent anymore. But I guess I'm doing it, 'cause well, why not? And he keeps silent. Go figure. His total lack of social skills at least gives me the opportunity to fully take in my surroundings.

Though the immediate area is flat and grassy for the most part, in the distance I spy thick forest. I think some of the trees are evergreens, but I'm really not much of a tree-hugger so… While walking straight ahead, my gaze averts to the sky. It's very blue; a pretty shade of blue; lighter and calmer than my eyes; the kind of blue that'd be on a postcard; only a single little, lonely, fluffy cloud in sight as if to say, "I _needed_ to fuck up the picture somehow!" But I like it nonetheless… That's a cool word. It looks big and sounds kinda big and dumb people think it's elite but it's not. Really. All it is, is "none the less" minus spacing so, if you're even dumber than previously mentioned, you'd think it was a _gramer _problem.

Try using "albeit" in a sentence. It's short, and awesome, and totally makes you sound smart albeit a nerd. Ah, I digress!

Wait… Where the fuck is scarlet locks?

Spinning full circle does not help. He is nowhere in sight, and there is no way he could have gotten to the forest by now.

See! I told you I'm crazy. But hey, it's nothing I don't know already. Taking the disappearance of my handsome—s'truth—figment of my imagination in stride, I continue onwards toward my destiny. Or forest. Pretty much synonymous. Scout's honor.

Before long, I'm in the middle of this forest and I have a conundrum—that's another word to make you sound smarter than you really are! Y'see. Posed before me is this behemoth of a crustacean, foaming like some rabid raccoon. Can crabs have rabies?

…

Anyway. I'm pretty certain that no crab that big should be snapping it's pincers so nonchalantly in the middle of a forest with no visible signs of a large body of water. So I guess it's a land-crab? As crazy as I may be, I am not going to try and take it out. In a bar fight against some average Joe, I'm fairly confident in my fists of fury. People underestimate me 'cause I'm small, which can give me an advantage. I'm a brawler though, so if the person actually knows how to fight, then I'm prob screwed.

Unless I somehow get this crabcake to drink several bottles of tequila, I wanna stay away from it. It clicks its pincers repeatedly for effect.

Mr. Crab has not noticed me yet, so perhaps I can sneak around him. The forest is pretty dense, and there's most likely another trail I can use. All I really have to do is back track and try to not bring any attention to myself.

When it comes down to it, I must utterly fail when it matters the most. Just be quiet—all I need to do is not make a sound—so, of course, I step on a twig. The giant blue rabid crab immediately locks on to me, and all I can do is wonder if crabs can really hear. Oh, and curse Murphy. A lot.

It's scuttling towards me. I have no idea what to do. Typical, right? Perfect for some B horror movie. Dumb blond about to get mauled by a colossal crab… in the middle of a woodland. Why the fuck does it have to be a crab? If I'm gonna die, it should at least be by something more menacing. Like a mutant spider or something.

So I'm backing away slowly trying to think past the panic. Perhaps climbing a tree will help? My leg will probably get cut off before I could manage that. If I knew this was going to happen, I'd have honed that seemingly useless skill. This line of thought is not helping.

Fuck it. I'm gonna run and not look back. If anything I can do that, and if not, I die.

I only make it a couple feet before something flies passed me.

_Craaack_.

A shrill death wail is what makes me turn on heel. The carapaced, yes I made that up, horror is flailing about in a surprisingly anticlimactic way. I thought it should flop all over the place, but it simply spasms a bit and then… stops. A giant scythe is lodged into its back.

There's hardly any gore too… Am I disappointed?

My, uh, hero reclaims his totally not bloody weapon, and, in comparison to how my day is turning out, I am not surprised. Randomly waking up in some other world, being dissed by some disappearing man, and being attacked by something that should have been a year's worth of crab rangoon—what's a nearly seven foot winged man to that?

Besides, he saved my life. That's always a plus in my book.

I walk a little closer to him. He has this peculiar grin on his face, and I have a feeling that he prefers that borderline psycho look. "Thank you." Gotta give gratitude when it's due, children!

"Yuh huh huh. Behind you."

Quizically, I turn and am subsequently tackled by… "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me!"

Someone up there is getting his kicks right about now

A big ol' hairy brown spider that's probably about my height is pinning me down. I think it's trying to bite off my face, so instincts dictate that I put up my arms defensively. Kicking it doesn't seem to dislodge the lil' bastard, but hey, at least I'm trying. All in all, I think I'm doing fairly well. I'm still breathing, right?

Then it both bites and latches onto my arm, leaving me in a world of hurt. Wikipedia says that tarantula bites aren't lethal, that, if anything, the only harmful thing is an allergic reaction. Does Wikipedia know about the effect of ones four feet plus?

I hope this isn't pois—


End file.
